


Chapter Sixty-Seven: Unforgiving Time

by CavalierConvoy



Series: MTMTE Series One: Shoot Straight with a Crooked Gun [68]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Bedside Vigils, Gen, Other, Waiting, dying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-20
Updated: 2015-07-20
Packaged: 2018-04-10 05:39:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4379366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CavalierConvoy/pseuds/CavalierConvoy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On board the <i>Lost Light</i>, the drones pull out, but half the crew is dying, and no one knows why. </p><p>Now the countdown begins.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chapter Sixty-Seven: Unforgiving Time

I could ask for one more chance to do it all again  
I would give my life to you and fly far away  
Sometimes I retrospect in time to see what's on my mind  
I would do it all again but time does not forgive

-["Unforgiving Time"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gYbKYs_4Hjk) by State of the Union, from _Inpendum_

 

Medibay  
_Lost Light  
_ Now

A collective scream pierced the medibay as random mechs fell, backs arched in excruciating pain. Ozone mingled with the acrid burning.

"Hound!" Huffer shouted, grabbing a writhing Gears by the shoulders. "What's going on?"

"Lancet, we have a situation!" Hoist shouted. "Lancet!"

"He's affected!" Grapple reported. "Dipstick, too!"

As names of the crew members afflicted by the wracking pain flew about, Artemis rolled off the slab, scrambling to reach Cavalier. The Minibot's shriek pierced beyond audio receptors. "No, Cav, stay with me!" the black and chrome mech ordered, gathering her convulsing friend into her lap. "Cav! C'mon, Brat, fight it — stay with me!"

"Artemis, we don't know — " Hoist was cut off by the sudden silence, replaced with an electrical crackling, the stench of ozone striking olfactory sensors. And then, those surviving the phenomenon voiced their concerns in a jumbled cacophony.

"They're dying," Trailcutter whispered, standing, scanning the chaos around him. "Our friends are dying. Why?"

Hoist furrowed his brow, grabbing a medical scanner. "Grapple, was Dipstick in stasis?"

"Yeah, I think so — "

"Confirm it! Anyone available, get the afflicted onto the slabs! Double up if needed!" Hoist ordered.

A keening laced into the cries of the others. Sunstreaker held the Insecticon, face pressed against Bob's helm as the quadrupedal mech shivered.

Smokescreen, already on a slab, was Hoist's first subject as he hooked into the speedster's diagnostic panel. "Ocular discharge, overheating, heat sinks seizing — ventilation! We need ventilation!"

"How could everyone be affected at once?" Hound demanded, helping Huffer bring Gears to a slab.

"Hound, I'm a field medic, not a doctor. I don't find out the how, I get them stabilised so that they survive long enough to see one. And right now...oh." Hoist straightened his back, lifted his head, and dimmed his optics. Vented. Looked back down at Smokescreen and squeezed his shoulder before moving onto Gears.

"Hoist?"

"Trailbreaker's right," Hoist replied, optics wide in horror. "They're dying. Their sparks are collapsing. We need to know why. I — I don't know enough about spark mechanics to safely treat this. We need our doctors."

"We need to make the best out of what we got," Hound snapped; around him, those untouched were fretting over friends and loved ones. "Can we at least make them comfortable?"

"Yes, Dipstick was in stasis!" Grapple reported, braking by grabbing the jamb of the operating room. "I hooked him up to a cranial ventilation system and it's holding his brain temperature steady — "

"'Cranial ventilation system'?" Hoist demanded. "Is that even a thing?"

"Just...made it?" Grapple shrugged. "Box with vents, directional intake/outtake fans, temperature gauge — principle's sound, right?"

Hoist lost five clicks. "Not going to ask now. Everyone, please, I need you to remain calm — we have a plan! Help us fill the slabs; EMTs, activate stasis lock to all affected! Grapple, get those systems operational. Trailbreaker!"

The large mech looked up upon hearing his name. Hoist approached him, hands on either side of Trailcutter's helm. "I need you to do what you do best," Hoist ordered, with the semblance of calm. "I need you to encourage everyone everything will be all right. Now is not the time to panic. Can you do that?"

Trailcutter nodded, worrying his bottom lip.

"Next order of business," Hoist explained, maintaining the orderly calmness, "We need to get Cavalier into the OR, but you know Artemis in her current state is not going to let just anyone near her."

Again, the specialist nodded.

Hoist returned the gesture before pulling his roommate closer, touching brows. "The most important thing right now is we need calmness. Panicking won't help our friends."

"On it," Trailcutter agreed, pulling away. Two short steps, and he knelt to Artemis' right, placing a hand on her back and pressing his mouth against her helm. "We need to get Cav in the OR, beautiful; may I take her there for you?"

"I can't lose her," Artemis stammered. "I can't. I can't."

"Which is why we need to get her to OR — Hoist has a plan." He scooted around to face her, meeting her gaze. "We'll get through this, I promise. We're not going to lose her." He held out his arms, blackened palms up, fingers still curled. "We've gotta be quick about this, Art. We don't have much time to save her. Please, let me take her."

Reluctantly, Artemis withdrew her arm. "Stay with her, please," she whispered. "She doesn't like to be alone."

"She won't be," he reassured, smiling as he stood. "Just rest up. You've run the gauntlet; we've got your back."

"Over here!" Hoist directed when Trailcutter entered the operating room, pointing to a vacant slab. "Huffer, prep for stasis!"

"On it!" the orange and blue Minibot affirmed as Sunstreaker, slowed by his wounded knee, carried Bob inside.

"Please, someone help him!" the yellow and black mech pleaded.

"We need to look out for our own," Inferno retorted, pointing and accusatory finger at the heavy speedster.

"Inferno, if you're not going to be helpful, get out of the OR!" Hoist ordered, waving Sunstreaker in. "He can share a slab with Cavalier. Huffer — "

Huffer hesitated, but complied, prepping another stasis cable.

"Hey, let me take him for you," Trailcutter offered, holding out his arms to take Bob. Sunstreaker had the same expression Artemis did: the uncertainty, the reluctance to let go of a loved one. "You're hurt, 'Streaker. Get off that leg. I'll make certain Bob's taken care of, okay?"

How far would one go for their best friend? Tempers were flaring in the intake room; arguments were breaking out, demands for answers that were out of reach. We don't know what's going on.

"'Streaker, can you do me a favour?" Trailcutter questioned. "Art's pretty banged up; can you keep an optic on her for me? Make sure she doesn't try anything reckless? I'll let you know if anything changes with Bob, okay?" A pause; Sunstreaker stared vacantly in response for the suggestion before placing the chittering Insecticon into Trailcutter's awaiting arms.

Watching the specialist turn, carrying the yellow mech's only friend _(untrue Teebs is everyone's friend see it'll be okay he and Hoist will take care of him)_ to the slab where the white and black Minibot lay prone, Sunstreaker, once certain no one was going to hurt Bob, exited, his leg dragging.

He found Artemis just outside the OR door, back against the wall, legs folded against her chest with her remaining arm hanging over one knee. Easing next to her with his wounded leg outstretched, he admitted, "'Big guy asked me to sit with you."

"Does anyone know what's going on?" she questioned, voice lacking strength.

"If there is, no one's saying," Sunstreaker sighed. "Um...look, if I start...freaking out...don't hit me."

"Wouldn't think of it," Artemis agreed. "On the topic, don't try to restrain me if I do the same; just keep talking to me."

"Gotcha."

They sat in silence; the noises of the medibay subdued since the afflicted stopped screaming. The acrid odour of burning ocular filaments permeated the air.

"I got messed up bad on Earth," Sunstreaker admitted, out of the blue. "And I did something incredibly stupid as a result. Long story short, I tried to end it. Took on a phalanx of Insecticons. Well. That's not true. I gave up. Didn't fight." He chuckled. "I know, me not fighting. Whodathunkit? Anyway, went offline some time. I don't remember when. No white light, no nothing. Just...nothing. And I was fine with that. Still, I came to at the bottom of a ravine, amid a pit of dead Insecticons. Later I'd find out these were where they dumped the defective ones, after they stripped them of resources. Only seemed fitting, you know. But someone was pulling me out. My legs were blown; I couldn't walk, but..." He banged the back of his head against the wall and winced. "I owe Bob. We were both damaged, discarded. But he tracked down, brought me to Ironhide and...well, that's how I found myself back in the fold. Second chance."

"Isn't that what being an Autobot is all about?" Artemis questioned, resting her head against her arm. "Primus, I'm so useless right now."

"Yeah," Sunstreaker grumbled. "We both are."

"Nothing from the bridge," Hound reported, tapping Artemis' flask against her arm. "The line's clear, but no one's answering. I don't know if they've been arrested as well, or — "

Taking the flask, she popped the lid and took a swig before passing it to Sunstreaker. "Save some for 'Cutter," she warned, pressing her head against the wall. "Thanks, Hound."

"Egregious circumstances," he retorted. "If anyone asks, we raided the office for supplies."

"So we're trapped here," Artemis groused as Sunstreaker returned the flask to her. "Our friends are dying for no reason, and all we know is that we've got some religious nutjob calling for our execution with hundreds if not thousands of drones at his beck." She studied the scarred surface of her flask. "I had better odds against Legion."

_"Bridge to Medibay! Tell me someone's down there!"_

Hound snapped his attention. "Max! Some good news would be wonderful right now!"

_"Good news? Those drones got called back to whatever hellhole they emerged from. Bad news? Blaster, Highbrow, and Mainframe are cooking in their brainpans, and we still haven't heard back from the away team."_

"Hoist, we need medics on the bridge! Mainframe, Blaster, and Highbrow are also affected!" Hound ordered.

"This." Artemis whispered as Hound laid out the plan. "I hate this. Useless, unable to contribute." She rolled her head to peer into the OR. "Friends dying of some weird sickness. Can't watch their backs when they're attacked internally."

"Hoist's got everything under control, until Ratchet gets back," Trailcutter reported, sinking next to Artemis. "Cav and Bob'll be fine."

"Liar," Sunstreaker growled.

Artemis held out her flask to her partner, leaning heavily on his shoulder. "Just so tired — so fragging useless."

"They'll both be fine," Trailcutter stressed, "as well as everyone else. Didn't you hear? Those drones are gone. The others'll be home soon, with Ratchet. Everything will be all right." He frowned, his attempts at grasping the flask with his wounded hands failing.

"Keep telling yourself that, hoss," Sunstreaker muttered.

Supporting the container, Artemis helped Trailcutter guide the flask to his mouth. "All we have right now. No good panicking."

"At least they're not trying to arrest and/or execute us anymore," Sunstreaker shrugged, hiding his face in his arms. "I might not have a fancy pre-law background like you do, but how can we harbour a criminal if we don't even know who it is?"

"I'm more concerned about Tyrest picking up a holy roller as his new enforcer," Artemis muttered, handing her flask to Sunstreaker.

"Yeah, what was that about?" Trailcutter demanded. "He was collected when facing off with Hound, but when Smokey got his attention — "

"He had a hardcore bitch with you two," Sunstreaker nodded, taking a sip. "You especially, Art."

"Smokescreen was one of Jazz's Eee-Gee when they went rogue," Artemis explained.

"Star Saber was Jazz's replacement; he was the one who arrested Elita Prime," Trailcutter stated. "I'm certain of it. I remember that voice. That presence." He accepted the proffered flask from Sunstreaker; without a cue, Artemis helped with guiding it to his mouth. A nod of thanks, he continued. "Not the best time to sneak a nap. Beginning of the end, that was. Elita didn't have the Matrix, but the Senate knew that already. They needed a figurehead, but she wasn't their mech. Star Saber called her an accessory to theft."

Artemis handed the flask back to Sunstreaker, only to pull out her datapad and balance it on her knee. Scrolling through her files, she tapped the icon, then brought up voice-activated search. "Article sixteen," she stated, "paragraph four, subparagraph six." Highlighting the article in question, she handed the 'pad to Trailcutter to read.

"Wasn't that one of your — " he stopped as the charge sunk in. "Art, this isn't theft of government property."

"Technically, it is."

"'Theft of government property' is lifting styluses, folders, datapads," Trailcutter muttered. "'Theft of holy and/or culturally significant artifacts'? Art, what's this about?"

"Oho!" Sunstreaker turned his head to regard the black and chrome mech, a slow, deliberate movement that bordered unnatural. "You never told him?"

"I'm glad your need to needle me on my arrest record is distracting you from the crisis at hand," Artemis countered, tapping the search icon again. "Article Sixteen, Paragraph Nine, Sub-paragraph Nine."

"'Desecration of holy and/or culturally significant artifacts'? I'm — I'm not comprehending," Trailcutter stammered.

"Take your time, hoss," Sunstreaker encouraged, optics never leaving Artemis's face. "She ain't gonna say it because then it becomes real, am I right, Prime?"

"Sunstreaker, please," she muttered, bowing her head against her arm. "That was...a dark place for me."

"Yeah, and guess what? When we get pulled into those dark places? We come back stronger. We're fragged up, but we're stronger." His smirk fell, as did his intense gaze. "We're stronger...."

The largest mech was about to respond when Hound returned, crouching before the three but regarding Trailcutter and Artemis exclusively. "Getting reports from all over the ship," he muttered. "We're figuring over half of us are affected by this. Without Ratchet and his team, we're in a holding pattern. They're going to bring the others down here, but...but we're running out of slabs as it is."

"And we can't figure out what's causing this," Artemis grumbled.

Hound shook his head. "Without access to records to find a common denominator, no. Hoist nailed it — we've got EMTs to get them stabilised, but without proper doctors — "

Artemis used Trailcutter's shoulder to push herself into a standing position. "I'm going to check on Cav. It's too quiet in there."

"No news is good news, Art," Trailcutter held up his arm, tapping her hip plating with his knuckles. "Hoist will let us know if there's any change. Besides, she and Bob are together; they're gonna watch one another's back, yeah?"

Sunstreaker barked a laugh, cold and pained. "They're dying, 'Breaker. I know you're trying to cheer us up and slag, but — "  
Hoist shouted for Grapple. Already standing, Artemis surged forward, breaking away from her partner's nonexistent hold. As Trailcutter stood to follow her, Sunstreaker grabbed his arm. "Give me a hand up," the speedster ordered. "I can't let him die alone."

"He's not gonna die," Trailcutter reassured, grabbing Sunstreaker's arm and helping him to stand, looping his arm around the warrior's back as support. "They're not. C'mon, some faith!"

"Faith in what?" Sunstreaker demanded as they followed the black and chrome mech into the operating room.  
Instead, "Give us some good news, Hoist!" Trailcutter ordered.

"Good news? Don't know what happened," the engineer-cum-field medic reported, "but we're getting spark signatures levelling out. Haven't the foggiest what happened, and likely we won't unless Ratchet gives us the rundown, but they will live." His optics widened, his brow raised, his version of a wide smile as he clapped his friend's arm. "They will live."

"See?" Trailcutter cheered, hugging Sunstreaker, who struggled but did not resist. "They'll live! Bob and Cav and Gears and Smokey! Our friends — everyone will live! I told you!"

"What the hell happened?" Artemis demanded, pressing her brow against Cavalier's helm. "What caused this?"

"I don't know, Art," Hoist answered as Grapple checked his impromptu inventions on the twenty-odd mechs in the operating room. "I can't answer that. But their vitals have stabilised. I think it would be wise to keep them in stasis until Ratchet is able to look them over." The engineer crossed his arms over his chest and looked over the slabbed individuals. "Why didn't it affect us? Minibots? Gears and Cavalier were affected, but Huffer wasn't. Smokescreen was affected but Sunstreaker wasn't. I...I'm at a loss."

"At this point..." Artemis whispered, "at this point, it doesn't matter."

"Of course it matters," Trailcutter grinned, clasping her good shoulder as Sunstreaker stroked Bob's head. "But Hoist's right; Ratchet'll know what happened, what caused it, and how to prevent it from happening again. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm about ten clicks to critical shutdown; just gonna go into this corner...."

"Yo," Sunstreaker croaked, darting his gaze to the black and chrome mech at the head of the slab, "why don't you nab a couple cycles? I'll keep an optic on Brat for you." A pause. "And...thanks for covering my six — five. I owe you that much. Just...don't tell anyone I said that."

"You don't owe me anything," she stressed, cradling her roommate's head. "You don't owe me anything."

 

 **NEXT CHAPTER:** The One I Once Was


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